Often after a convivial evening spent in my apartments with a few other young men of his class and caliber, he reeled out of my presence, his deeply flushed face and thick voice bearing plain testimony as to his condition.

On these occasions I used to consider with a sort of fierce humor how Nina would receive him--for though she saw no offense in the one kind of vice she herself practiced, she had a particular horror of vulgarity in any form, and drunkenness was one of those low failings she specially abhorred.
"Go to your lady-love, mon beau Silenus!" I would think, as I watched him leaving my hotel with a couple of his boon companions, staggering and laughing loudly as he went, or singing the last questionable street-song of the Neapolitan bas-peuple.

"You are in a would-be riotous and savage mood--her finer animal instincts will revolt from you, as a lithe gazelle would fly from the hideous gambols of a rhinoceros.

She is already afraid of you--in a little while she will look upon you with loathing and disgust--tant pis pour vous, tant mieux pour moi!" I had of course attained the position of ami intime at the Villa Romani.

I was welcome there at any hour--I could examine and read my own books in my own library at leisure (what a privilege was mine); I could saunter freely through the beautiful gardens accompanied by Wyvis, who attended me as a matter of course; in short, the house was almost at my disposal, though I never passed a night under its roof.